It’s in her eyes.
In the gentle way she cups my jaw.
In the fierceness of her hug.
I grab the blanket and tuck it over our bodies, hold her as her breathing evens out and the night grows late.
Only then do I gather her into my arms and carry her upstairs.
It’s when I’m tugging the blankets up and over her that I see the notebook on the nightstand, one of the pens I bought her atop it.
And there my heart goes again.
“I promise you,” I whisper, smoothing back her hair. “I fucking promise you that I won’t mess this up.”
She burrows into the blankets, breathes my name.
I watch her for one more moment, committing the sound of her, the sight of her, the way it feels to be allowed this close to her to memory.
Then I slip out of the house, locking the door behind me.
I shiver when the cold air cuts through my clothes, rubbing at my nape as I walk to my van.
Snap!
I whirl around at the sound of a tree branch breaking, my stomach clenching, my pulse speeding, searching the shadows for the source of the noise—
A raccoon materializes out of the darkness and my shoulders relax.
Its beady eyes lock onto me and it hisses.
“Chill,” I mutter, reaching for the door handle. “You leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone.”
It glares at me for one long second.
Then waddles its fat ass away.
Amused, I shake my head, climb into the driver’s seat, and go back to my empty house.
Twenty-Two
Lainey
“Do it, Mom!” Ollie orders, his stuffed Ollie tucked under one arm as he dances around the living room. “Do it!”
Grinning, I put my laptop aside and reach for my phone.
“He won’t see it until after the game,” I remind him. “Which means you’ll be in bed. Asleep,” I add pointedly.
“That’s okay!” he says completing his dance. “He should still know we think it’s a good goal!”
It wasn’t just a good goal. It was a beauty of a goal—something I wouldn’t have been able to distinguish before Faye started dating her hockey player.
Before I started dating mine.
Dating.
God, is that what I’m doing?